“The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it's the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him with his friend.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

***

The little red-haired girl holding her mother’s hand was unusually quiet. Normally, she was a very loud and boisterous girl. With two older brothers, who were twins, she had to be or she would never be heard at the dinner table. Today, though, she was about to start at her new school and, although she’d been looking forward to this ever since Fabian and Gideon had left, now that the day had come, she was suddenly scared.

“Come on, Molly,” her father cried as he picked her up and began swinging her around. “This isn’t the time to be solemn. You should be excited.”

“Daddy, stop it!” Molly complained with all the dignity she could muster. She was, after all, eleven years old and far too grown-up to be swung around like a baby �“ however much she enjoyed it.

Grinning, her father put her down but could not resist giving her a tickle as he did so. Molly giggled but quickly stopped when she noticed a dark-haired girl, about her own age, watching rather scornfully.

“Look,” continued her father, “there’s the barrier.”

Molly couldn’t help smiling at the excitement in his voice, but she was still nervous. “What if I can’t get through?” she whispered.

“Get through?” her mum muttered vaguely as she looked around for her sons. Locating them standing with a gaggle of boys, she turned back to her daughter. “Of course you’ll be able to get through, Molly, dear. You’re a witch!”

“B-but, what if I’m not magic enough?” she asked in a quiet voice as she scuffed her shoes on the concourse.

Her dad laughed loudly. “Not magic enough? Who was it who only last week turned Gideon’s hair blue because he was annoying her? Who was it that made frogspawn appear in Fabian’s soup because he was slurping?”

“And,” added her mum, mock sternly, “who was it who Charmed her Aunt Muriel’s tea set so the teapot wouldn’t stop dancing? I think you’re magic enough, my girl. Hopefully, Hogwarts will teach you how to turn your magic into something useful instead of tricks!”

Molly giggled. Her dad pushed her forwards slightly. “Go on, Molly. The first time is always the best. Take your trolley and run though �“ as fast as you can.”

She saw him signal to her brothers to return. Fabian winked at her, Gideon tweaked one of her curls, and both stood back. She took a deep breath, and then, breaking into a run, she launched herself at the barrier. The air rushed through her ears and she lifted her feet off the ground and rode the trolley as it swept through to the other side.

“Yes! I am a witch,” she yelled and began to laugh joyously.

***

I’m on my way. I’m on my way. Her thoughts in rhythm with the train. She looked about her. Fabian and Gideon had been joined by one of their friends, Dirk, and a girl sat in one corner reading a book. Out in the corridor she could hear the sound of raucous boys as they raced up and down the train. The girl, scowling in annoyance and huddling under a scarf, turned her face to the window.

“What are they doing out there?” Molly asked Fabian who was reading a comic.

He shrugged. “Dunno.” He put his comic down and stood up. “Do you want to come and find the lunch trolley with me?”

Molly nodded and, accepting his hand, they walked out of the carriage. “Who’s that grumpy girl in the corner?” she asked in a whisper as they picked their way around a group of boys playing Gobstones in the corridor.

“Emmeline Vance,” replied Fabian. “She’s a Ravenclaw. Very serious.” He grinned. “Dirk likes her.”

Molly pulled a face. “Urgh! Dirk’s got pimples!”

“Ah, sis. One day it’ll be you looking at a spotty boy and telling us all how much you love him,” replied Fabian, laughing.

Ahead of them, Molly could see a line of people queuing up behind a trolley. The witch pushing it was scowling. “You don’t have to come and find me, I push this up and down the corridor, all day long,” she grumbled. Some of the children dispersed, but Fabian pushed his way to the front.

“Hello, Doris,” he said cheerily. “Remember me!”

“Oh, Gawd!” Doris exclaimed. “Which one ‘o yer is it?”

“It’s Fabian.” He pushed Molly forward. “Doris, this is my little sister, Molly. She’s just starting at Hogwarts and would like one of your wonderful cakes.”

Doris pursed her lips and, for a moment, Molly thought she was going to refuse. Then Doris’ face cracked into a toothless smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Molly Prewett. I do ‘ope you’re not going to be as much trouble as those bruvvers of yours. OOH, I swear me ‘airs only gone grey since they started getting on this train.”

“Ah, Doris. Molly is probably worse than me and Gid put together,” replied Fabian.

Doris produced a selection of cakes and Molly’s eyes were on stalks as she looked at the different colours, shapes and fancy decorations. Hastily, she dug out her purse and paid for a cupcake decorated with pink icing in the shape of a fairy. She looked up at Fabian but he was watching a girl in the next carriage.

“Uhh, Molly, I’m ... um ... going to go and see a ... friend. Can you find your own way back?”

She nodded and, licking the icing off the top of the cake, she began to wander back.

“Is he your brother?” said a voice behind her. Molly looked up to see the girl from the platform leaning against a carriage door.

“Mmm, one of them,” Molly said. She licked some more of the icing, loving the feel of it as it melted on her tongue.

“You’re lucky!” the girl exclaimed. “I have two younger sisters �“ both very annoying. I am so pleased to be leaving them behind.” She held out one very clean hand. Molly wiped her own down her shirt before accepting it. “I’m Bellatrix Black.”

“Molly Prewett,” she replied, smiling. “Would you like to share my cake?”

Bellatrix considered and then grinned. “I’d love to.”

***

The boats moved majestically over the rippling lake. Molly looked around in awe. Nothing her brothers and parents had said had prepared her for this. Her stomach felt funny, a swirly, tingly, sicky feeling. ‘Too many Chocolate Frogs’ Molly could hear her mother’s voice in her head scolding her. But it wasn’t Chocolate Frogs; it was excitement -- and fear.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to Bellatrix who sat beside her. She too looked scared and Molly was surprised because she had seemed such a confident girl on the train. They had talked for a while and Bellatrix had told her all about the magnificent tapestry adorning a wall in her Aunt Walburga’s home. She informed her that they were, in fact, related due to a Prewett marrying a Black in the last century.

“So you’ll probably be a Slytherin like me,” she’d declared. “That’s where the purebloods go.”

“Well,” Molly had replied nervously, “My brothers are Gryffindors and my mother was a Hufflepuff ... so ... I don’t really know.” She’d tailed off lamely as Bellatrix had tossed her hair back off her shoulders.

“Just tell the Hat where you want to go,” she’d said boldly. “That’s what I intend doing.”

Molly hadn’t said anymore. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know what Bellatrix was talking about. A hat? she thought. What does the Sorting have to do with a hat?

She wasn’t sure about Slytherin �“ in fact, she wasn’t sure about any of the houses except that Gideon said Gryffindor was for the chivalrous, whilst Fabian said it was for the stout at heart. As she looked up at the castle lights, she didn’t feel at all stouthearted, just a bit sick again.

As they reached the underground harbour, Molly scrambled out, grateful for Bellatrix’ help as she slipped on the slimy rock. She kept hold of Bellatrix’ hand as they followed the Keeper of the Keys, a terrifying man called Ogg, who led them up a flight of stone steps. At the top of the steps was a very big man, with hands the size of dinner plates. Molly gulped nervously, and Bellatrix tried to hide behind her, but the big man bent down and winked at her. “Red hair, eh? Are yer a Prewett or a Weasley?” he asked with a smile on his face.

“A Prewett,” Molly replied proudly.

“Ahh, well I ‘ope yer less lively than yer brothers. I was ‘opin yer was a Weasley �“ they don’t give me ‘alf as much trouble.” He held out his hand. “I’m Hagrid, by the way.”

“Molly,” she replied, and shook his little finger. Hagrid beamed again and then turned to Bellatrix, but she ignored him.

“Line up!” Ogg bellowed as he knocked on a large wooden door. “And wait for Professor McGonagall.”

Professor McGonagall, Molly decided, looked stern, but was quite welcoming. Her eyes passed over the pupils fleetingly, but she gave a hint of a smile at Molly’s red curls as she explained the Hogwarts Houses.

And then they were walking into the Great Hall with everyone staring. Molly gulped as Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the line and showed them a three legged stool on top of which was perched a tatty-looking hat.

“I thought it would look much finer than that,” whispered Bellatrix scornfully.

Molly was silent. She watched as ‘Abbot, Edward’ was sorted into Hufflepuff. He didn’t look as if he was in pain, and she sighed with relief �“ it probably didn’t hurt after all.

She squeezed Bellatrix’s thin white hand just before her friend left her. Bellatrix strode confidently to the stool, and, after glancing disparagingly at the Hat, she sat down and placed it on her head. The Hat merely glanced on her black tresses before it shouted ‘Slytherin’ to the Hall.

It seemed an age, and yet no time at all before Molly’s name was called, but she walked to the stool, her head held high. Across the hall, she saw Bellatrix, already talking to her fellow Slytherins, yet she glanced at Molly, smiled and showed her that she’d crossed her fingers. On the other side, Molly could see her brothers. They looked, she was astonished to see, nervous. She smiled to herself, for she wasn’t at all scared now. Her mother had been a Hufflepuff, her brother’s were Gryffindors and her new friend was a Slytherin. She doubted she was clever enough for Ravenclaw, but she didn’t mind now where she was Sorted. She wriggled a bit on the stool and then placed the tatty hat on her head. It felt soft and even when it spoke to her she smiled, feeling no fear.

“Another Prewett, eh?” the Hat whispered. “You have courage, my dear, don’t you ... and a strong sense of loyalty. Which House for you, I wonder? Ahh, with spirit to match that hair it can only be GRYFFINDOR!”

She could hear her brothers cheering as she skipped merrily to the Gryffindor table. Just before she sat down, Molly looked across at Bellatrix and smiled. It won’t make a difference, she thought, we can still be best friends.

But Bellatrix had turned away.

***

From across the Great Hall Molly sees a jet of green narrowly miss her daughter. She runs full pelt across the floor, loosening her cloak as she does so.

“Not my daughter, you bitch!”** she hears herself scream.

She starts to duel, not the fun she had years ago when she laughingly hexed Gideon --or was it Fabian �“ for sniggering at her and Arthur �“ a boy with pimples. This is serious; this is to the death.

Her former friend mocks her with talk of her boy lying dead in the Great Hall, and a cold hard fury builds inside her as she twirls her wand. As Bellatrix screeches with laughter, she hits her with a hex under her heart.

The last thing Molly sees before Bellatrix crumbles to the floor is a wand slipping out of that white hand. The same hand she shook on the Hogwarts Express, the same hand that helped her across the rocks, the same hand she squeezed tightly before they were divided by a tatty hat.